


An Unexpected Request

by Cantatrice18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Estrangement, F/M, HBP, Missing Scene, Protection Magic, Reunions, Second War with Voldemort, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Narcissa Malfoy's first destination had not been Spinner's End? Who else might she have turned to in order to save her son?</p><p>On a hot summer's night, Andromeda Tonks receives an unexpected visit from someone she has not seen in over twenty years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Dromeda, where’s my wand?”

“Where you left it,” Andromeda muttered, flicking her own wand at a pile of dishes and watching as they began to scrub themselves. 

“Huh?” Ted Tonks poked his head out from around the corner. “D’you say something?”

“Try the bedside table,” his wife replied in a long-suffering tone of voice. “If not, then check the garden shed.”

“Ooh, haven’t looked there yet.” Ted smiled cheerfully at her. “Back in a jiffy.”

He disappeared through the back door and into the dusky garden. The sun was just setting, despite it being nearly nine, and the sky had turned a rich color of red that cast long, dark shadows over the little house. A breeze stirred the leaves of the beech tree by the kitchen window, temptingly cool after yet another hot summer day. Andromeda leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. She would be glad when autumn finally arrived. Her daughter always teased her for saying it, but the fact remained she was not as young as she once was. Forty-three was not old, of course, particularly not by wizarding standards. But whenever Nymphadora reminded her, as she often did, that Dumbledore was over a hundred, Andromeda would reply that raising a metamorphmagus with a nose for trouble sapped her youth and aged her twice as fast. After that Dora would usually get distracted changing her own nose to resemble a pig snout or a rabbit nose, and forget the whole thing. Andromeda smiled in spite of herself. If someone had told her, growing up, that she would be married to a muggleborn with a shapeshifting auror for a daughter, she’d never have believed it.

Another gust of wind shook the branches of the beech tree. Andromeda froze, her body tensing and her eyes snapping open. There was someone at their front gate, someone who had not been there the moment before. The protective spells that she and her husband had cast upon their home the moment word of Lord Voldemort’s return had reached their ears now registered the presence of an intruder. Andromeda glanced at the mirror on the far wall, which showed a cloaked stranger, tall and thin, their face hidden by a hood. The green light encircling the figure’s right hand indicated that whoever it was had drawn their wand. She shuddered, and thanked the stars that Dora had left right after dinner. Auror or not, to Andromeda she would always be a clumsy little girl with bright eyes and a careless smile. She couldn’t bear it if her daughter were hurt. 

Drawing her own wand, she took a step away from the door, prepared to shield herself behind the kitchen table. The figure was walking up the gravel path that led to the front door, seemingly immune to the protections that should have turned away all but her family members. She felt ice grip her heart, and thrust aside the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. Only the most powerful dark wizards could break through the web of spells protecting her home. The fact that the figure appeared to be alone was, if anything, more disturbing. Death Eaters ran in packs. For all she knew, the Dark Lord himself might be approaching her door. There was nowhere to run. She would have to take a stand, make enough noise that Ted would know what was happening inside. If he kept his wits together, there was a chance he might survive.

Privately, she knew there was no way her husband would leave her to die alone at the hands of Voldemort or his Death Eaters. She knew what she was getting when she married a Gryffindor. All valor, no cunning. Her heart ached a little at the thought, but she steeled herself as the figure in the mirror grew larger and larger. It was feet away from the door now, raising its wand and—

Two soft knocks seemed to echo through the silent house. Andromeda stared from the figure in the mirror to the front door. Death Eaters did not knock. What on earth was going on?

The knocks came again, quiet, almost tentative. Andromeda pointed her wand at her own throat. “Identify yourself,” she said, knowing her voice could be heard outside the door. The stranger remained silent, though she could see from the mirror that it had lowered its wand. “Remove your cloak and state your business, or depart,” Andromeda ordered.

The figure in the mirror raised its free hand, hesitating at the clasps of the cloak. Even from a distance Andromeda could see that the stranger’s hands were graceful and pale. An emerald ring glittered on the stranger’s fourth finger, and Andromeda had a sudden bizarre idea of who the intruder might be.

With a single movement, the figure threw back the hood of the cloak, revealing long blonde hair that fell in a single straight sheet down her back. Her skin was almost translucent in its paleness. The final rays of sunset cast her features into sharp relief, but Andromeda did not need light to recognize the woman on her doorstep. “Narcissa?” she whispered in shock.

“Andromeda, I—“ The woman looked to either side, her blue eyes wide and fearful. “Please, may I speak with you?”

Andromeda said nothing, her wand dropping to her side. Slowly, as though in a trance, she walked to the door and undid the bolt, letting the door swing inward. On the doorstep stood her sister, faded and drawn, but still undeniably the Narcissa she’d known. The pair stared at one another for a long moment, silence stretching between them. Then, with a clatter that made her jump and spin around, Andromeda heard the screen door to the back garden bang shut. “Found it!” a cheery voice called. “It was just where you said it…” Ted trailed off, looking from his wife to the woman on their doorstep. “…was” he finished lamely. “Er, am I interrupting?”

Andromeda sighed. “Not yet Ted. But I’m afraid you will be.” She turned back to Narcissa. “You’d better come inside. I’ll make tea.”


	2. Chapter 2

The cheery yellow cupboards in the warmly lit kitchen could not dispel the icy chill that emanated from the pair of women at the kitchen table. They sat across from one another, a tray of shortbread between them, each sipping hot tea out of china cups painted with a pattern of bulrushes. The silence stretched longer and longer until finally Andromeda sat her teacup down in its saucer with a sharp click. “Narcissa, it’s getting late. This isn’t a social call, so out with it.”

Narcissa flinched as though she had been hit. “I need…I need to speak to Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore?” Andromeda raised her eyebrows. “Why come to me for that? Surely you’re aware he can be reached by owl.”

“Oh, don’t be a fool, Andromeda,” Narcissa snapped, ice blue eyes flashing. “You ought to know full well I’m being, being watched.”

She turned away, unable to catch the sudden look of concern that fitted across Andromeda’s features. “Why?” Andromeda asked quietly, her voice betraying no emotion.

“The Dark Lord is,” Narcissa paused, “displeased with Lucius. I’m sure you’ve heard, the break-in at the Ministry…”

“I’m aware of what took place, yes,” conceded Andromeda. “His arrest was in the Daily Prophet.”

Narcissa winced at the mention of the newspaper, a faint blush appearing on her deathly pale cheek. Andromeda reached out and refilled both their tea cups with her wand. “I thought he was in Azkaban.”

“He is,” Narcissa replied. “In a way, he is lucky. The Dark Lord’s wrath cannot reach him there.”

“But it can reach you,” Andromeda said, understanding at last. 

Narcissa nodded. “And my son,” she whispered. Her eyes met those of her sister and she leaned forward. “I need Dumbledore. I need to, to tell him—I have to see him, alone and in person. You’re a part of his Order, you can contact him for me.”

Andromeda sat back in her chair. “I’m afraid you’re wrong about that. I’m not a member of the Order, just an ally.” Narcissa’s shoulders sagged. “But I know people who can channel a message to him, one that won’t be traced.”

She heard Narcissa’s quick intake of breath and felt the woman’s gaze boring into her. “Will you do that? Will you contact him for me?”

Andromeda nodded carefully. “I shall. And in return, I trust you will do your best to keep your master’s attention from turning to my family. I am aware of how most of our old acquaintance views my choice of husband. I, too, have those whom I wish to protect.”

Narcissa nodded agreement, and Andromeda flicked her wand, summoning a quill, ink, and paper from a nearby drawer. “Tell me the message,” she instructed. “I’ll write, so that it will be in my hand.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa breathed. “I swear you won’t regret it.”

“Just tell me what to write,” Andromeda replied calmly, dipping the quill in ink. “We haven’t much time.”  
… 

Half an hour later the kitchen was silent once more. Narcissa had gone, her message sent off to members of the Order who, in turn, would pass it along to Dumbledore. The sky was well and truly dark outside now, the constellations just becoming visible. Andromeda stood at the kitchen window, staring up at the heavens, thinking. “Galleon for your thoughts,” came a soft voice from behind her. Ted was standing in the doorway of their bedroom, where he’d taken shelter during Narcissa’s visit. “How long has it been, then, since you’ve seen her?”

Andromeda turned her back to the window and leaned against the counter with a sigh. “Twenty-six years? I might have caught glimpses of her since, but the last time we spoke was the night before you and I eloped. Our parting was not cordial.”

“Not my biggest fan?” Ted asked, his tone light but his eyes serious as he surveyed his wife.

Andromeda let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not exactly, no. A lot of regrettable things were said, on both our parts. I accused her of being Bellatrix’s shadow, a mindless pawn of the Black family, too blinded by their prejudice to make her own decisions. Her insults were as you’d expect.”

She fell silent and Ted ambled across the room, gathering her into an embrace. “I’m sorry it had to be that way,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair. “I wish I’d been some pureblood little lordling, if only to make your life that much easier.”

Andromeda snorted. “There’s an image. You among the sacred twenty-eight, dressed in velvets and silks and sipping elf-made wine.”

“Well, I’d be up for the wine, anyway,” Ted replied, and kissed the top of her head. He paused for a moment, frowning. “You know, we’ve got to redo those protection spells around the house. Because she’s your sister, the silly things couldn’t tell the difference between her and one of our family.”

“I don’t think she’ll be back,” said Andromeda, trying to ignore the gloomy feeling that had suddenly come over her. “Not for a while, anyway.”

“She’s not who I’m worried about,” Ted countered. “If those spells see her as family, they’ll see other, less welcome members of the Black clan as family too.”

Andromeda shivered, the image of Narcissa suddenly overtaken in her mind by that of another sister, older this time, black haired and menacing, a darker version of herself with a wicked gleam in the eyes and a predatory smile. “First thing in the morning,” she agreed. “I’ll ask Nymphadora to help when she gets off work.” Breaking away from Ted’s embrace, she began to clear the remains of the tea off the table. “It’s late now. We should head to bed.”

Her husband nodded, his expression almost too understanding, and retreated to the bedroom without another word. She finished clearing the dishes with a wave of her wand and, without meaning to, glanced at the mirror through which she’d first seen her sister’s arrival. They would redo the spells, that was for certain, key the spells to just the three of them. Perhaps even a Fidelius charm, though those could be more trouble than they were worth. And much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t like the idea of being fully isolated from the world. If the charms had worked properly, Narcissa might never have even found their home, much less made it from the gate to the front door. She resolved to add a loophole to their protections, just one. Ted was right: leaving behind her entire family had been much harder than she liked to admit. If there was the smallest chance that Narcissa would return, well, the gate would be open for her.


	3. Chapter 3

She stood, or rather paced, atop a lonely hill barren of life save for a trio of half-dead trees. Far in the distance the lights of a muggle town could be seen on the valley floor, but the hilltop seemed untouched by any human presence. The wind, free from any obstacles, whistled through the dry grass and buffeted her on all sides, whipping her cloak first one way, then the next. Her wand was gripped tightly in her right hand, and her eyes darted around as though expecting an ambush at any moment. 

Without warning, a flash of white light illuminated the clearing, blinding her. She felt her wand fly out of her hand and dropped to her knees. “Don’t kill me!” she cried.

“That was not my intention,” replied Albus Dumbledore. His long white hair and beard seemed to glow from the light emanating from his wand. “You requested a meeting with me,” he said calmly, his wand raised high enough to illuminate the woman kneeling before him. 

Narcissa shivered as the wind swirled around her. “I did, yes. I—I’ve come to ask—to beg,” she took a breath. “I need your help, for my family.”

Dumbledore regarded her coolly. “I’m afraid there is little I can do for Lucius now. You would be better off asking your master.”

“It isn’t my husband.” Narcissa’s words seemed to tumble out of her, as though she were unable to contain them. “My son, my Draco. The Dark Lord seeks to punish us for Lucius’s failure, I’m certain of it, that’s why he’s given my son the task of, of—“

“Of murder?” remarked Dumbledore sardonically, ignoring Narcissa’s gasp. “Yes, I’m aware of how he intends to use Draco, once the boy returns to my school.”

“Please, I beg of you, don’t hurt him.” Narcissa was now bent so low that her long blonde hair trailed on the ground. Tears fell unchecked from her eyes, the drops sinking at once into the parched dirt. “The Dark Lord cannot possibly expect him to succeed. How could he, when Draco is not even of age? The task is impossible.”

“Not impossible,” Dumbledore corrected. “Rather, let us say, highly improbable. But you have not yet informed me what you wish me to do about Draco’s macabre assignment. If you expect me to sacrifice my life for your son, you are gravely mistaken.”

“No, of course I don’t, I—“ she let out a choked sob, her arms wrapped around her middle in a pitiful imitation of an embrace. “Keep him safe,” she pleaded. “That’s all I ask. Protect him for as long as you can, while he is in school. I’ll give you anything in return, anything at all. I—I don’t know very much, I am not part of the Dark Lord’s inner circle, but whatever information I have is yours.”

“That will not be necessary,” Dumbledore assured her quietly. “I think you understand that your family is too deeply embedded in Lord Voldemort’s organization for me to protect Draco forever. But while he is at Hogwarts, I will do my best to keep him safe from harm.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa breathed, her entire body shaking. 

Dumbledore made as though to step towards her, but appeared to think better of it. Raising his wand, he made a quick circular gesture. At once Narcissa rose to her feet, supported on either side by invisible hands. He waited until it appeared that she could stand on her own once more, examining her closely. “I wonder, Narcissa, how you intend to keep the knowledge of this little visit safe from your master.”

Narcissa blanched. “I—It will be difficult, very difficult. He will find out eventually, he always does. I can only hope Draco is safely in school before the Dark Lord discovers my deception. When he does…I am prepared for the consequences.”

Dumbledore’s sapphire eyes were full of pity as he surveyed the woman before him. “I believe I may have a solution, if you will permit it.” 

Narcissa’s head jerked up, her eyes wide. “A solution?” she whispered.

Dumbledore nodded. “I can alter your memory, make you forget that you ever sought me out. Of course, you would be unable to remember our agreement, but I swear to you now that I will keep your son safe, regardless of the state of your memory.”

Narcissa tensed, biting her lip. Then, quite suddenly, she nodded, her shoulders sagging with defeat. “Do what you want with me,” she whispered.

Dumbledore stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on her head. At once her eyes went blank, staring vacantly into the ether. A moment later they’d assumed the deadened look of one under the Imperius curse. With slow, deliberate movements she turned her back on Dumbledore and crossed the clearing to retrieve her wand. Seconds later she was gone.

Dumbledore stood in silence for a long moment. Then, his voice calm and emotionless, he spoke. “You heard all?”

The air beside one of the blighted trees rippled, shifting until it formed the shape of a sallow man in black robes. “I did,” Severus Snape replied.

“What do you think of her?”

Snape walked to stand next to Dumbledore. “I think her request is futile. The Dark Lord has marked Draco as one of his own. Any failure on the boy’s part will result in his death, and most likely hers as well.”

“That was not what I meant,” remarked Dumbledore. He was not looking at Snape, but rather staring up into the night sky. “I referred to Narcissa herself.”

Snape frowned. “She is reckless, risking everything for—“

“For the one she loves?” When Snape did not answer, he continued. “Unless I am very much mistaken, her quest to save her son will not end with me. Her memory is modified, but her sense of purpose remains. I think you should expect a visit from her soon.”

“Me?” said Snape in surprise.

“Naturally,” Dumbledore replied. “You are one of her husband’s compatriots, her son’s favorite teacher, the only person she could trust to keep Draco safe at Hogwarts. Within the next week, I’d imagine.”

“And what should I tell her?”

“That is up to you.” Dumbledore allowed his gaze to fall until his eyes met Snape’s. “When the time comes, you will know what to do. In the meantime, I have business to attend to, a journey to complete.”

“Is that why you chose to meet here?” Snape asked

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Certainly not. I’m surprised you do not recognize this hilltop.”

“I recognize it,” Snape muttered.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore replied. “Apart from the obvious fact that it is easy to protect from eavesdroppers, I’ve grown to have a certain attachment to the place. When it comes to Death Eaters seeking favors, that is.”

Snape grimaced. “You asked her for no payment, though.”

“She has nothing to offer me that you have not already provided,” said Dumbledore. “And she is not as strong as you are, Severus, nor as skilled. But the love she bears her son is powerful, and cannot be underestimated.” 

He sighed, gathering the folds of his cloak about him. “Watch her,” he instructed. “Wait for her to approach you. When she does, choose your answers wisely. You, of all people, know the pain and terror she must be experiencing. Do what you feel is right.”

With a tiny popping sound, Dumbledore turned on the spot and disappeared. Snape stared at the place where he had gone, brow furrowed. Then, with another pop, he too disappeared, leaving the hilltop silent and empty once more.


End file.
